


Truce

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Enemies to Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 10:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: An accord is reached between Princess Brienne and her guard, Ser Jaime Lannister. For JB Week Day I.





	Truce

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a handful of Princess!Brienne stories (available in my Cubs & Gemstones collection), but this is the first full-length story. It follows the similar canon twist to 'Head, Hand, Heart', namely that Robert dies before he becomes King, and a Tarth is chosen to succeed the throne (in this case, Selwyn). Brienne is 17; Jaime 19. 
> 
> Written for JB Week Day I, prompt 'new beginnings'. I hope you enjoy!

It had been easier for Princess Brienne to sneak out of the Red Keep than it was for Jaime to sneak her and their bloodied appearance back _in. _Courtiers had ducked inside to escape the pouring rain; guards in both Lannister and Tarth colours were posted at most entrances. Somewhere in the castle, King Selwyn and his Hand, Lord Tywin, were discussing what was to be done about the prevailing Targaryen threat. Their children cared little; only that they would not be caught.

It did not matter if his father was Hand: if it was known that Jaime had allowed the Princess to come to harm, it would be his head on the block.

Thankfully, the Princess' knack for escapades meant she knew well the secret passages and hidden alcoves of the Red Keep. It took some time, but eventually they reached her chambers undetected. Brienne locked the sliding door on her side of the wall, before closing the bookcase to hide the entrance. Jaime made note of it; would have to wait there the next time the Princess felt like some _fresh air. _He had hope, however, that this little bout in the marketplace had clipped her heels.

Jaime snorted. There was more chance of the White Walkers returning.

"You should sit down," she said suddenly, practically pushing him into a chair. "I'll get the servants to bring us fresh water."

"And wine, too." Brienne raised an eyebrow; since their acquaintance, neither of them had proved to be much of a drinker. "_You're shaking, _Princess."

Who wouldn't be, after slaying a man for the first time? Summoning poise he would not have expected from her, Brienne opened her chamber door just wide enough to address the servants. A basin of warm water was called for. Fresh towels, too. Wine and some bread and cheeses. Dark clouds blocked out most of the light filtering into the small hallway; keeping the spots of blood on the Princess' face from view. Her ripped tunic and torn breeches were hidden, also. To say nothing of him: thank the Gods he was not dressed in his full regalia when he went to retrieve the Princess. It was a pain in the arse trying to get blood out of that white cloak.

The servants returned quickly, and Brienne made two trips carrying the requested items back into her room. Her actions raised no eyebrows. They had grown used to the quirks of the Stormlands Princess; the daughter of an island Lord now elevated _far _beyond her station after the death of both Aerys Targaryen and Robert Baratheon. With a firm kick of her foot, Brienne pushed the door closed and took a seat opposite him at the table. Her hands shook as she poured them both wine.

"It gets easier," Jaime said, taking a sip from his goblet. He had no idea why he was trying to comfort her, but the words had already spilled from his lips. "He would have killed you. Raped you, probably; ransomed you, perhaps. Much easier to kill you. You did the—"

"—_I know._" Brienne brought her long legs up against her middle; both hands clasping her goblet. "I shouldn't have been in that position in the first place." On that, Jaime could agree. She wasn't on Tarth anymore; danger lurked around every corner. "If I'd had my sword, I could have cut more of them down."

Jaime stared, open-mouthed. "That's what concerns you so? Your impotence? _Princess, _do you know what would have happened if I hadn't have followed you?"

"You wouldn't need to follow me if I had my sword." Brienne took a gulp of wine; wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I can protect myself!"

"Perhaps, but it is my _duty_ to protect you!"

"And that worked so well for the Mad King!"

_Aerys. _It always came back to him. It had been six, nearly seven moons now since Jaime had thrust his sword into the Mad King's back. He'd been pardoned, but that did little to stop the rumours, whispers. _Kingslayer, oathbreaker. _Jaime wasn't allowed near the king. Guarding the Princess was supposed to be an honour, but Jaime knew it to be a punishment. She was stubborn, sharp, and entirely unpleasant. Other princesses sewed or practiced music or walked in the gardens. Brienne preferred to spar and swim and explore. Nothing about Brienne was easy. The first time they'd met, she'd refused to turn her back on him.

_Don't want to give you the opportunity, Kingslayer. _

But that was six, nearly seven moons ago. "Forgive me, Ser Jaime. That was an unkind thing to say."

"You've said such things before; why is now any different?"

Princess Brienne leaned back; shoulders sagging against the cushioned upholstery. There was still blood on her face; her dagger since wiped clean upon the thigh of her breeches. She would have to burn those clothes. The fact that she had offered to sneak them inside rather than run straight to her father still left Jaime bewildered. She could be rid of him in one fell swoop, why not take it?

"I'm sick of fighting, Ser Jaime." The arguments; the constant one-upmanship. He'd hide her shoes so she couldn't run away; she'd spar in bare feet. He had been right to hope. Today had shaken her. "Let's call a truce."

"You need trust to have a truce."

"I trust you."

Jaime looked across the table into sapphire eyes; the only thing about the Princess that was remotely beautiful. She lacked the guile that so many in Court possessed; that Jaime's own sister seemed accomplished in. Brienne's face was bold, and honest, and Jaime knew with one look that she _did_ trust him. He'd come for her, after all. Dropped three men before she'd found the throat of the other with her dagger. Jaime had reached for her, then, and she'd crashed into his arms. She was safe. He'd _made _her safe.

"A truce," he said, offering his hand across the table.

"A truce." She shook his hand. "We should get cleaned up before anyone sees."

Brienne reached for the basin; soaking a cloth in the tepid water. He expected her to clean herself; scrub at the traces of blood smeared across her cheek and chin. Instead, she reached over to rub at the marks on Jaime's face. Flecks splatted across sharp cheekbones; golden strands of hair now dark. She was gentler than expected; diligent in her efforts to make him presentable. Brienne did not meet his eye as she cleaned him; said not a word as she turned away to wash her own face. He considered offering, but there had been enough impropriety for one day.

"I'll take your clothes," he said, as the Princess ducked behind her dressing screen to divest herself of her bloodied tunic and torn breeches. "I'll see that they're taken care of."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime." A pause; Jaime could see her broad silhouette stand still. "Perhaps, tomorrow, you could show me that counter riposte?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "By all means, Princess. We could do quite a lot of things now I'm not running after you all the time."

"And there are a great many things I'd like to do now I'm not worried about you catching me."

Jaime could not see her, but he liked to imagine the Princess was smiling. He certainly was. Who knew: perhaps, in a few moons, they would even be _friends. _


End file.
